When an Ex-Husband Acts Dead

My best friend, Caroline Vanderbilt, and I married into the prestigious Ashford family of New York.

I married the brilliant surgeon, the older brother, Jonas, while she married the finance mogul, the younger brother, Charles.

At our wedding in the Hamptons, Jonas suddenly disappeared to console his ex-girlfriend, who was going through a "creative block."

My Grandma Rose was so devastated by the public humiliation that she collapsed from a heart attack, her life hanging by a thread. With trembling hands, I dialed his number, pleading for him to return—he was the only surgeon in New York who could perform the procedure.

But his voice on the other end of the line was laced with fury. "Are you insane, Ella? You'd lie about your own grandmother dying just to force me back for that damn ceremony? Katherine is having a breakdown, and I need to be here for her. We can get married anytime."

That day, Katherine’s breakdown subsided, but I lost my Grandma, the person who loved me most in this world.

I cried until I couldn't breathe. When I finally came to, Caroline was watching over me. The first words out of my mouth were, “I’m divorcing him. What about you?”

Caroline hugged me tightly, her own tears soaking my shoulder as she said in a voice I’d never heard before—hard and resolute, "I'm divorcing him too. To hell with the damn Ashfords. We’re so done with them."

That afternoon, the two Ashford brothers simultaneously received divorce papers delivered by a lawyer.

For the first time in their lives, these two impossibly arrogant men were stunned.

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1

"Jonas, let's get a divorce."

The moment I sent the message, my phone rang. It was him.

"Always with the drama, Ella. First, you lie about your grandmother dying, and now you're threatening divorce? The wedding is just a ceremony. Is that really more important than someone's life?"

Hearing his twisted logic, I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. The last flicker of warmth in my heart died out.

"I already told you, Katherine was in agony yesterday, completely paralyzed by her creative block. She couldn't even pick up a paintbrush; she had a total meltdown. She's an artist, Ella. As my wife, can’t you show a little compassion?"

His accusations were so self-righteous, as if I were the one in the wrong.

Yesterday was supposed to be our wedding. Our guests were all gathered. But moments before our vows, he took a call and vanished.

All he left me was the sight of his retreating back and a roomful of guests whispering behind their hands.

My grandmother, that elegant, strong woman, collapsed from the sheer humiliation. I rushed her to the hospital, but the news from the doctors was a devastating blow: Jonas was the only surgeon in New York qualified to perform such a complex operation.

I called him frantically.

One call, two, ten… He didn't answer until the fifteenth try.

"Jonas, I'm begging you. Grandma had a heart attack. She's in critical condition, and the doctors say only you can save her. Please…"

On the other end, Jonas's voice was sharp with disbelief and anger. "You'd stoop to using your own grandmother just to get me back for the ceremony? Do you have any shame, Ella?"

"Katherine's having a breakdown. She could grab a knife and slit her wrists at any moment. I have to stay with her. Now stop calling me."

I sobbed, "No, I'm not lying, Grandma really…"

Hearing my cries only made him more impatient. "Alright, stop the act. It's just a wedding. As soon as Katherine's stable, we'll have another one next month… no, next week. Just stop being so damn unreasonable."

With that, he hung up.

Just as I was about to call again, the doors to the emergency room swung open. A nurse wheeled out a gurney, the heart monitor emitting a single, piercing, continuous tone. On the screen was a flat, unwavering line.

In that instant, my world shattered.

I grew up an orphan; my grandma raised me by herself, pouring everything she had into running her small flower shop.

She was my everything.

I don't know how I fainted, only that when I woke up, my best friend Caroline was staring at me, her eyes red and swollen with worry.

It was in that moment that I made my decision.

Ever since Katherine Monroe returned from Paris six months ago, Jonas’s attention had been entirely hers.

He’d claim to be working late at the hospital, but he was really with Katherine.

He never noticed my social media posts. When I once asked him to like one, he called me childish.

But the second Katherine posted anything, he was the first to like and comment.

I had always believed that once we were married, we’d have a lifetime to build something real. I thought that if I was just patient, he would eventually see me.

But all I ever received was his emotional neglect, and his patience with me grew thinner by the day.

The night we signed our marriage license at City Hall, he canceled our celebratory dinner to go see the Brooklyn skyline with Katherine.

Whenever Katherine needed him, he would drop everything and race to her side, no matter what.

Once, when my appendix flared up and I was doubled over in a cold sweat, I begged him to take me to the hospital. He didn't even look up from his medical journal. "Call a cab," he said coolly. "If you can't handle this, how do you ever expect to handle childbirth?"

But when Katherine nicked her finger while chopping vegetables, he would drop everything to bandage it himself.

To Jonas, Katherine’s “artistic soul” was a sacred, untouchable thing.

I knew I couldn't compete with Katherine's place in his heart, but I never dreamed he'd decide my grandmother's life was worth less than one of his ex's moods.

On the phone, Jonas was still talking. "Katherine was shaken up and needs a change of scenery. I'm taking her and her paintings to Art Basel in Miami to help her clear her head. We can talk about whatever this is when I get back."

Caroline, who had been standing beside me the entire time, finally snapped. She snatched the phone from my hand and roared into it.

"Jonas Ashford, you are a complete and utter bastard! Ella's grandmother is dead! If you have a single shred of humanity left in you, you'll get your ass to the hospital right now and see her one last time!"